


The Devil You Know

by averageclawenfangirl



Category: Jurassic World - Fandom
Genre: Claire looking damn fine all the time, Claire x Owen, Clawen, F/M, Fluff and Angst, My precious Clawen sweethearts, Owen's kinda having smutty thoughts sometimes, Pre-Indominus, There's some angst coming soon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2015-11-12
Packaged: 2018-04-29 08:42:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5121989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/averageclawenfangirl/pseuds/averageclawenfangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Owen's playing with fire, and he's not sure that he minds getting burnt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Party

Owen surveyed the room with tired eyes. The idea of coming to this staff Halloween party was stupid to begin with, and he was wishing more and more every second that he was back in his cabin, beer in hand, watching trashy reality shows. If it hadn’t been for Barry’s incessant persuasion, that’s where he’d be right now. Instead he was here, mingling with everyone that worked under the Masrani Corporation banner at the annual Halloween party. 

The busy season had died down and most of the regular staff had been given the night - and the next day - as holiday, and most had taken this to mean they could get royally fucked up on the free alcohol provided. The attendees has most certainly gone all out on costumes - Owen had counted at least 12 vampires, and at least 10 of his female coworkers dressed as cats, among other strange Halloween hybrids. He had to admit it was strange seeing those he worked with dressed in something other than khaki. Barry’s reason for Owen’s attendance was simple - he needed to get laid. Owen himself had to admit this was true, it’d been over a year - far too long for his liking. 

The trouble was, the girls Barry had in mind could not be further from the woman Owen had put on a pedestal in his own. The delectable Ms Dearing. He sipped on his beer and glanced down at his outfit. Barry had insisted they both went as pirates - and, as it was, Owen was wearing a white shirt unbuttoned almost all the way down to his navel; complete with the cutlass, sash, baggy pants and boots. He thought he must look an idiot; the girls at the party deemed otherwise. 

He couldn’t ignore the stares from the women at his (admittedly tanned and toned) chest and he brushed past carefully towards the bar. Nor the giggles and the sidewards glances he was receiving now from all over the room. It did make him feel good, but he would’ve traded all of these women’s reactions just to see what kind of expression would cross Claire’s face. 

He checked his watch; surely she’d make an appearance. She had to. As if on cue, through the door came Claire Dearing, accompanied by her assistant Zara. Owen almost dropped his beer on the floor and hastily picked up his jaw from around the same area. Upon her red hair jauntily sat a pair of devil’s horns, and her face was decorated in more makeup than she usually wore - her eyes smoky pools of black accompanied by thick lashes. Her beautifully creamy skin was poured into a sleeveless, skintight red velvet dress that ended just above her knees. It clung to the firm curves of her ass and chest like a dream. Her lean calves tapered down forever, it seemed to Owen, until he saw the shoes. Typical Claire, never without her heels. However, these were a break from the norm. Towering skyscrapers of crimson. She looked gorgeously classy still, the epitome of work meets play in one outfit. She could either hit the club or a boardroom full of executives in that dress - maybe minus the horns. He hastily averted his eyes. Claire Dearing was making him feel like a god damn school boy.. But he couldn’t resist. 

Glancing back, it only then occurred to him how uncomfortable she looked. This struck him as odd, but made sense at the same time. She was so used to her power uniform - the suits and the skirts, and her aura in that environment was one to be reckoned with. She seemed comfortable, confident even, in her own skin. Now, wearing much less clothing, she seemed afraid, needing her battle armour to protect her and preserve the ‘corporate bitch’ image so many of Owen’s colleagues had created for her. She was chewing her bottom lip and trying to edge her dress down her thighs. Owen’s mouth began to water just looking at her slender limbs, instantly imagining them wrapped round his waist. "Damn it, Grady, control yourself! This woman is not a piece of meat!" He internally screamed at himself. No doubt her attire was Zara’s choice - who was dressed in almost the same, apart from in white with a halo adorning her dark curls. Owen couldn’t help but smile - way to go, Claire. You’re playing up to your stereotypes perfectly to your employees. 

At this, Claire caught his eye, and nervously began to make her way over, not even teetering in those heels of hers. Holy fuck, thought Owen, what the hell does she want?!

“Mr Grady”, breathed Claire nervously. Owen leant his forearm the bar and turn sideways to face her, eyebrows raised and a grin stretching across his face. "C'mon Claire.. We’re off the clock. It’s Owen" She smiled, her lips decorated fire engine red to match the rest of her outfit. She still hadn’t met his gaze, her eyes downcast towards his shoes. They began to work their way up his body, and Owen could tell she liked what she saw. He wasn’t being arrogant, he’d just admired Claire from afar for long enough to know how she expressed herself. 

How her nose crinkled and her eyebrows rose when he told a joke or made an ill-placed innuendo. How she smoothed her hands through her hair when she was trying to either calm down or regain control of a conversation. The way her eyes, a blue the colour of something beautiful Owen just couldn’t place, could strike fear into the hearts of any of her subordinates if anything at the park didn’t meet her standards. Finally, they were staring back into his own. "Owen, then" she replied. He laughed, tipping his bottle at her. "That’s right. Nice get-up.. It’s a little different from your daily style, don’t you think?" At this Claire blushed, the pink warming her cheeks in a way Owen could grow to adore. He made a mental note - embarrass Ms Dearing more often. It’s damn cute. 

She looked down towards to ground again, and spoke with a laugh: "It was Zara’s idea. Mr Masrani told her that I needed to let loose a bit, that I was too wound up. I don’t know how that translates to outfits such as these, but I’m glad to see I’m not the only one who’s gone all out." She motioned towards his chest and the plastic sword resting at his side. "Are you sure you’re not just saying that because I’m not wearing a lot on top?" He said, narrowing his eyes playfully and pouting at her. What the hell, he was well on his way towards a drunken state and Claire had certainly put some desire to be here back into this evening for him. She closed her eyes and shook her head in fake exasperation, her glorious fiery crown of hair choppy around her jawline. "Look; I, uh, actually came to ask you something." She stuttered, wringing her hands. 

He swigged from his almost-empty bottle again, signalling to the barman for two more. "Shoot. I just ordered you a beer, so you’re not going anywhere just yet." She wrinkled her nose at this, and he could tell she wanted to retort, to complain that beer was not her poison of choice. However she didn’t, and ploughed on with her request, as though it had been something weighing on her mind for hours, even days. "I was wondering if, uh, if you’d like to go out sometime. With me. For dinner.. Or whatever." She smoothed her hands down her skirt, blinking at him in earnest. Owen felt a look of pure incredulity cross his face, which then split into a smile wider than he thought he’d ever known. "Well, well, Ms Dearing. I knew you’d fall for me eventually" he winked at her, taking a pull from one of the beers that had arrived and passing her the other. 

Her eyes closed in mock frustration again, and she laughed as she opened them. "Don’t be such a jerk. Is that a yes?" She asked, sipping delicately on the alcohol. The ice in her eyes was clear to see. Despite the outfit, the attitude she carried in the boardroom and was woven in to every action she carried out at the park still resided. She was still the boss, and she always got what she wanted. And Owen hated himself for finding that so god damn attractive. His eyes roamed over her, assessing her once more. She really was one of the most stunning women he’d ever laid eyes on. Dressed like Satan or not. "Here’s a deal breaker. Only if you keep the horns on" he tipped his bottle towards the headband. She rolled her eyes at this, and in a move so totally removed from her personality, she reached out and stroked his arm. "I’ll pick you up at 7 on Monday. Don’t fuck this up, Grady." With that, she sashayed away, poise and posture perfect. He blinked as he saw the miniature devil’s tail pinned above the spectacular curve of her ass. My god, he thought. She had made him feel about two inches tall and it’d given her all the confidence in the world. And damn it to hell if he’d ever tell anyone how much that turned him on.


	2. Claire & Mr Grady

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire considers what lead her to finally ask Owen out on a date..

Claire opened her eyes and stared back at her reflection in Zara's mirror. She barely recognised herself. Her personal assistant - the closest she had to a friend on Isla Nublar, classically British with the sassiest personality to boot - had transformed her. Her bright blue eyes were shrouded by bewitchingly dark lashes (false, she had to admit), complemented by expertly applied dusky eyeshadow. Her lips, instead of the usual Vaseline she slicked over them every morning, were old-school Hollywood red. Claire was used to glamour; this was a whole different level. Was it too excessive? Zara seemed to sense the cogs of doubt turning in Claire's head and was quick to reassure her boss. 'Darling, you look incredible. If that raptor trainer says no this evening, it confirms my suspicions that you might just be the most frightening female on the planet'. That was Zara - refreshingly blunt and down to earth. Claire smiled, her eyelashes fluttering downwards. 'As long as you don't think it's too much?' She questioned, turning herself back to the mirror and carding her fingers through her razor sharp bobbed hairstyle. Zara sighed, cocking her head as she adjusted her halo headband. 'If anything.. It's not enough.' With that, she slided the devil's horns onto Claire's head and they were seemingly ready to go. 

Zara and Claire had made a deal the day previously that Claire should ask Owen out on a date. They'd just paid a visit to the raptor enclosure to check the progress of the project - for the first time in months, Claire had to admit. Something about the way Owen Grady refused to crumble under her glare unsettled Claire greatly. His constant requests for first name basis; and the way he casually tucked his thumbs into the belt loops on his impossibly snug pants when they attempted to talk corporate matters were just a few things on the ever-expanding list of why. But perhaps the most standout reason of all was his love for the velociraptors - his girls. No other employee at the park had ever come to her with such passion and knowledge regarding the assets in their care. Owen almost made her feel bad for her consistent disregard to see the dinosaurs as nothing more than prehistoric money spinners. Almost. They had been met at the enclosure by Grady and his colleague, Barry. The latter offered to give Zara a tour of the enclosure, which left Owen and Claire time to discuss business matters. They began to climb the stairs of the viewing arena. 'It's good to see you, Claire. Been a long time since you've come down this way, huh? The girls have grown a lot in every way - we've managed to complete five successful scent drills in the last week. InGen are pretty impressed.' Owen finished, a smirk on his face as he crossed his tanned arms across his broad chest, clad in a navy shirt and leather vest. Claire would never admit that she tried her very hardest not to look at the generous curves of his biceps. 'That's all well and good, Mr Grady,' She began, 'as you know, I don't really have much to do with this project, but Dr Wu and Mr Masrani are requesting statistics of just how successful the animals are turning out to be.' He raised his eyebrows and took a step towards her. 'It's Owen,' he reiterated. 'Now why would they want that kind of thing so suddenly?' She attempted to avoid thinking of just how close he was to her. 'I.. Have no idea. The lab deliver us finished assets and we then have to monitor them, I suppose.' She ran a hand through the back of her hair, as if to make herself appear larger and warn him off. How primitive - Owen seemed to bring out that kind of side to her with his presence. He squinted in the sunlight, rolled on the balls of his feet for a moment and then took off onto one of the catwalks above the enclosure. She scrambled to follow him. 'So, Mr Grady, do you think you could have-' She was cut off by him abruptly turning round, so sudden she almost walked into him. 'Yeah yeah, Claire. I'll have the stats delivered to ya. Will I be seeing your face at the Halloween party tomorrow night? I bet you can't resist the idea of free alcohol.' Her nose turned up in indignation. 'Excuse me? What are you trying to imply?' He winked at her. 'I'll keep a look out for ya. Hopefully I can spot you in your costume.' They were standing millimetres away from one another now, with it being Claire's turn to fold her arms over her chest. She merely sighed and shook her head in disbelief, and walked away, heels clicking theatrically on the decking. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Zara staring up the two of them. She knew she'd have a lot of questions to answer later - the British woman would want to needle her as to why Owen Grady had her all riled up. 

'Oh my god, you have to ask him out! You're like something out of Shakespeare! It's such a classic - opposites attract!' Zara's reaction to Claire's retelling of her short but insightful meeting with Owen was what she expected - over the top. Claire narrowed her eyes at the other woman over her desk. 'Zara.. I don't think you're seeing the point here. The man is a complete oaf who thinks the charm he uses on all the other girls would do the same with me.' Claire stuck her chin out as she pretended to assess her paperwork. 'Not going to happen.' Zara rolled her eyes, knowing her boss couldn't see, and scrolled through her phone, apparently disinterested. She shrugged, 'I'm just saying. It's not like he's been around the block here or anything awful like that. I just think you'd have a lot in common.. What, with him being so in love with his job and all.' A sly smirk crossed her face and Claire couldn't help but smile and proverbially swallow her pride. If anything, she would do this to get Zara off her back, right? Not because she'd instantly been intrigued by the godforsaken ex Navy man the moment she saw him arriving off one of the ships. Definitely not. 'Alright, alright' she said, closing her eyes as she processed this seemingly absurd proposition, 'I'll ask him, but if the date goes badly, I'll personally be taking it out of your paycheck.' Claire leaned back in her chair, steepling her fingers. Zara's glee was barely containable. 'Deal!'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope people out there are reading and maybe even liking this?! Who knows. Feedback is always appreciated! I'm a beginner so throw whatever you want my way. Love.


	3. The Date..

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this is the third part to my fic The Devil You Know. I think Owen and Claire are just so easy to write, and I've fallen head over heels for their characters. Claire's outfit is inspired by the way Bryce totally slays in halterneck dresses.

Owen was standing on his porch, as night began to fall over Isla Nublar. He loved this time of day. Most of the resort guests were confined to their hotel rooms, or eating dinner on Main Street, meaning the general buzz of thousands of people milling around simmered down enormously. Apart from the distant, occasional roar of the dinosaurs, and the omnipresent hum of the cicadas, everything was pretty peaceful. Just how he liked it. But this evening, everything was different. His heart was hammering painfully against his ribs, and he could feel sweat sheening on his back, threatening to fuse his freshly-laundered white shirt to him like glue. Damn it, Owen thought, this girl's got me losing my mind, and that ain't happened for a long time. He checked his watch - 6.55pm. His mouth felt dry and he anxiously rubbed the back of his neck as he anticipated Claire's arrival. 

Sure enough, at 7pm exactly, headlights appeared in front of his bungalow. His brain suddenly went into overdrive, and he found himself second-guessing every decision he had made that had led him to this point. He hoped she'd approve of his outfit - crisp white shirt, rolled up to his elbows with an obviously relaxed open collar; navy corduroy board shorts and boat shoes. This would do, right? He cursed himself mentally for not finding a way to ask Claire where she'd booked them in so he could have had a head start on what kind of attire was appropriate. It also would have been a subtle way of securing her number.. Win win. 

As soon as he saw Claire he knew he'd made the wrong decision. She, as ever in Owen's opinion, looked absolutely breathtaking. Clad in a white chiffon halter-necked dress, settling somewhere around her knees and reminiscent in some way of the devil's outfit she'd worn to the party in the way it fit her. It seemed to Owen that it had been created especially for her - even though she was sat in the driver's seat; he could see the way it was beautifully moulded to her breasts, flat stomach and the curve of her legs. The scent of vanilla hung in the air, complementing her aura even more so. She smiled as he entered the vehicle and they greeted one another, and glinting from her earlobes were delicate teardrop diamonds. Her hair was as sleek and dazzling as ever, the setting sun outside almost the same rich auburn shade.

She was a thing of beauty, and in this moment, Owen really could not believe his luck. And felt like a colossal idiot for dressing so casually. Screw it, he thought. If she's got a problem with how I'm dressed, she'll tell me. Claire did not mince her words, something she was renowned for throughout the park employees and Masrani corporate. It was one of the things he'd always admired about her, even when he'd been on the receiving end of a completely scathing attack.. Which had happened more times than he'd cared to remember. 

Now, she turned her head to him as she drove away. She gave him a fleeting once-over, and Owen saw something flash in her eyes that seemed to him like disapproval. But, apparently, his earlier observations had been wrong, as she carried on. "I've made reservations for us at the new restaurant that's opened just off Main Street. I hope that's okay with you? I also requested that we're given the bay window table, so that none of the other diners can see us. It wouldn't do for talk to start about us between your colleagues and even the guests, right?" Owen bit back a retort about how he was pretty sure most of their coworkers had seen them get kinda cosy by the bar at the party, deciding not to start this date by pissing her off. "Fine by me. You look beautiful, by the way." 

Like Claire (or so he thought), Owen too did not hold back what he was thinking. And he was right, Claire did look incredible. He was already casting his mind ahead to the wandering eyes of various guests later who would appreciate how she looked as much as he did, and his knuckles whitened in his lap. She wasn't his girl, but he sure as hell wanted her to be. She bit her lip and shook her head slightly, and that blush he had so loved at the party invaded her cheeks again. "It's nothing, really. I just thought, you know, that I probably needed to show you I have an angelic side too. Even Satan incarnate needs a night off." 

At this, Owen laughed, a throaty chuckle he was sure only she could procure from him. "Oh, I don't know about that, Claire. I thought you corporate types keep your tridents and horns handy at all times." She rolled her eyes. "It's good to see your sense of humour is in working order, as ever, Mr. Grady." He almost turned fully in his chair to face her, "You can't keep that up all night. Once I've got some tequila down you, I'll never get you to stop calling me Owen, even in the workplace." She snorted, "I highly doubt that. And I don't do tequila.. At all." Owen smirked, knowing she couldn't see his expression as the light faded outside and they trundled down the dirt road towards the main resort. "We'll see about that, Ms Dearing."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that these chapters are pretty intense, so please try and stick with me!


	4. Dinner and Broken Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Owen tries his best to impress Claire on their infamous date. Poor guy..

Owen had never, ever found it more difficult to stop himself from punching something than he did right now. He rubbed his hands against his face and through his hair in exasperation as a desperate sigh escaped him. How had he fucked up this evening so badly? More importantly, why did he feel as though he'd fallen for Claire in a way he'd never experienced before? He had visions of her eventually becoming his moon and stars, his reason for waking every morning. And he was nothing more than a cloud on her horizon. Well, if he wasn't before; he certainly was now. 

He should have sensed Claire tiring of his velociraptor talk in the restaurant. It was glaringly obvious to him now that this evening was a channel of escapism to her, a way to forget about her corporate duties and the weight of thousands of people upon her delicate shoulders. She obliged him at first, smiling along and even prying into the routines and processes that occurred at the behavioural unit. Taking a bite of her sea bass, she had remarked "I remember watching you imprint on them when they were born. I thought it was an absurd practice; but it actually seems to have worked in your favour." She offered him a smile; her even, perfect teeth gleaming as she sipped from her water. Owen was tucking into his steak with gusto - relishing the fact he was enjoying his favourite food, discussing his favourite subject with perhaps his favourite woman. 

Thinking about it now, Owen shook his head and scratched his beard. Fucking greediness, Grady. It never did you any good. Admittedly he did propose several questions to her, but it became apparent her family and early life were the last topics she wanted to discuss as in-depth as Owen would've liked. "Yeah, I have an older sister, Karen. She's great. She's got two boys - my nephews. They're reat kids.." She resumed eating quietly, and he couldn't help think her whole side of the conversation was a farce. Talking about normalities just to please him. How had their flirtatious conversing at the Halloween party turned into this? Why was she holding back? 

Frankly, Owen would have talked to Claire about anything - the first movies they ever saw, their prom dates, their first pet, hell; he'd even ask her if she believed in soulmates if it would produce a genuine response from her. All too soon their courses were finished and she was taking out her card, clearly ready to split. Owen placed a large paw over her dainty hand and snorted. "No way. I'll get this, Claire. A woman should never pay, even if she's earning more than me." He smirked at her. This was clearly not the right thing to say. "Excuse me? My salary doesn't come into this. At all." She sat back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest, defensive position deployed. Owen was immediately transported to her office, staring into the same face that reprimanded him so often for handing in his reports too late. He reverted back to his nervous stance - his hand shooting to the back of his neck and scrubbing the skin there. "Look, I, uh, didn't mean to offend you. It was just a joke." He raised his hands in surrender. They ended up splitting the bill, and she stood up abruptly and he followed; feeling like a piece of shit with his tail between his legs.

"Tonight was fun," she'd said, her false smile playing tight across her face as they sat outside his bungalow. After a few moments of awkward conversation in the car, they'd actually ended up outside his fucking house. At 8.30pm. He couldn't believe his luck - as a jock at high school, he'd been used to getting his way with women. Even more so in the Navy. Not that he didn't respect women - jeez, his momma would never have let her son grow up like that, but if he had ever truly desired a girl; he'd win her eventually. Charm her, woo her, get to know her preferences and what turned her on. And he'd never even make it that far with Claire, now. He sighed, and turned to face her. "You don't have to lie to me. I could tell you didn't really enjoy it. I was going to suggest we went to Margaritaville, get a few tequila shots down our necks to lighten the mood." He chuckled sadly. "My, uh, current diet doesn't really allow for tequila." She murmured, looking anywhere but at him. He shook his head, in pure disbelief that the night was truly ending like this.

He unbuckled himself and almost leapt from her car. "Owen?!" She called after him through the window, and he turned round, hands on his hips. "Let's just pretend this never happened. You clearly didn't enjoy yourself, and you have no idea how hard that is for me to accept. Whatever, Claire. We tried." She spluttered in indignation. "Fine! Fine. If that's how you want to leave things. I'll be down to the paddock next week for a progress report. Good night, Owen." Her tone was flat, she made no attempt to fight or argue, and it pained him greatly. With that, she pulled away. 

He was left standing there in the dark, when all he wanted to do was tear after her and scream that no, no fucking way was that the way he wanted to leave things. He tried so hard not to grow attached to people - humans were an overrated species. He'd been content on this island just him and the girls until he thought he had a shot to try with Claire. He wanted to beg for a second chance, to kiss her so hard that it could potentially make her feel just an ounce of the passion he nurtured for her. He kicked the dirt in frustration and retreated to his bungalow. And that's where he found himself now, replaying it over and over again in his head sat alone in the dark. He now faced the toughest challenge ever since arriving on the island. To erase all memory of tonight and keep working for Claire as if nothing had ever happened. As if he'd never even contemplated the fact he'd fallen in love with Claire Dearing. It doesn't do to fall in love with the devil you know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah this is the last part done! So in terms of the the JW storyline, this would obviously be a prerequisite for why there's so much animosity between them when Claire asks for Owen's help with the Indominus at his bungalow. It's not perfect but these two have my heart and I couldn't help myself!


End file.
